


A Stupid Suggestion

by loveavillain (copper28)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Speech Disorders, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copper28/pseuds/loveavillain
Summary: Tony suggests something Steve doesn't like, but could it help Bucky? Natasha's in on it, Tony's given him a file, but how will Bucky react?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic dedicated to my best friend who loves Steve and Bucky. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

The top floor living space of the avengers’ tower was surprisingly quiet, devoid of the usual noise and accidental destruction; only two members were currently occupying it. One stood against the counter that separated the kitchen from the larger living room, and the other was seated in said living room, quietly watching the birds out of the floor length windows. 

"Have you tried constraint induced therapy?" 

The question that comes from Tony Stark was not one Captain America expected and the look Steve gives Tony is enough to convey his answer to the question.

Clicking his wrist, Tony nods vigorously, swirling the scotch he has in his other hand round in the glass. "I know, I know, dude's been cooped up tied down and kept on a lead for way too long. But it's a suggestion. Don't let the name get you all riled up, it's had some good results with previous patients. You've tried everything else."

Steve tilts his head back against the luxurious couch, the soft leather cool against his neck. "I don't care what kind of results it's had, I'm not putting him through anything traumatic or potentially triggering."

Pausing across the room, Tony stands with his tongue held between his teeth, the literal embodiment of holding his tongue.

"Whatever it is you want to say just spit it out." Steve growls, knowing it will be something he doesn't like.

"I just," Tony begins, chewing over his words, "I think you should discuss it with him before you dismiss it. He's not the one objecting right now, it's you."

Anger flares in Steve's chest and his head comes up off the couch to properly glare at the other man. "Of course I fucking am, constraint induced doesn't really sound like the sort of therapy that would benefit Bucky. That's like giving you electro therapy or some crap. Even suggesting it might set him back, could screw up the trust he has in me I'm not-"

There's a red flash at the door, and suddenly Nat is hopping up onto the sleek counter that separates the kitchen area from the lounge, arching an eyebrow at the two men. "Steve's not having it then?" she says to Tony, swinging her legs casually. 

Steve looks at her in sheer amazement, shifting forwards to perch on the edge of the couch, tension obvious in his shoulders. "You knew about this? Thought I'd agree?"

Nat regards him with a cool look. "Don't bite my head off grandpa. I agree you should at least talk to him about it rather than dismissing it before you've even looked at the file Stark's put together. A physical file, might I add."

Whether it was the clipped tone or the last comment to Nat's addition, but Tony pointedly avoids eye contact with both of them, dumping his glass next to Natasha and moving to retrieve the file. He tosses it towards Steve, who catches it before it can smack him in the side of the head.

Steve doesn't open it, simply lets it hang from one hand between his legs where he sits, hard gaze flicking between the both of them.

"You think that makes a difference? Just because Stark thought about someone else for a change and made effort to make reading this stuff easier for me does not mean it is worth the read." Steve growls.

Tony flinches, hurt crossing his features for a split second before he turns it into an aloof sneer. "Well, I guess next time I won't make the effort to try and help your murderous friend."

Steve realises his mistake too late. Tony thinks about all of the Avengers before himself, works himself into the ground to help who he can and, always goes out of his way to assist all of them. Insinuating he was a selfish bastard probably wasn't the best thing to say to the friend he knew would take it to heart.

"Shit, Tony I didn't-"

"Save it." Tony snapped, snatching up his glass and heading for the lift. "Use the file for your stupid log burner, I don't care."

With that he was gone, and all the aggression drains from Steve's body as he stares down at the file.

"Nice one." Natasha says casually, hopping down off the counter. "He's only trying to help, Steve. Help a man who killed his parents. Remember that next time you jump down his throat for making a perfectly valid suggestion."

Steve remains silent as she begins to leave, his gaze still fixed on the print at the front of the file.

As she reaches the door, Steve calls out.

"Nat?"

She turns, pausing in her disappearance from the room. "Steve."

"Tell him I'm sorry." He says.

Nat nods once, offering a sympathetic twitch of her lips. "I'll sort out Stark. I know you're just trying to protect Bucky, but, cut him some slack. Show him the file, and if he doesn't want to we'll just keep at the speech therapy he's doing now. Okay?"

She doesn't wait for an answer as Steve looks up, vanishing from the room as quickly as she had appeared.

Sighing, Steve stands, the folder feeling heavy in his grip.

 

\--

 

Lounged across the bed, Steve wonders why he took so long to tell this man beside him how he felt. Bucky looks like he's always been pressed up against Steve's side, metal arm wedged between them with most of the right side of his body slung across over Steve's chest.

He should have told him before the war. When they were teenagers skipping stones across the lake, when Bucky was flirting with all the girls, when they'd ride their bikes past curfew, when Steve would climb up to Bucky's window when he was grounded. So many wasted opportunities.

"Penny thoughts." Bucky mumbles, tilting his head up from where it rested against Steve's shoulder.

Steve gives him a fond smile, shifting from running his hand up and down Bucky's scarred back to stroking his fingers through soft hair, tucking a few unruly strands behind his ear.

He should correct the sentence. Bucky's speech pathology, his expressive language disorder, it wouldn't get better if Steve didn't help guide Bucky in keeping his sentences fully formed, using filler words and getting him to repeat the right sentence. But Steve knew what he meant, and with the discussion he wanted to have in a few moments, he wanted /this/ moment to remain relaxed.

"I was thinking about all the time we wasted. Before the war. We could have done so much together, made every moment just that little bit better." Steve explains, unable to resist closing the small distance between them to place an affectionate kiss to Bucky's forehead.

Bucky hums, nudging his nose up to nuzzle against Steve's jaw. "Not wasted. Good times."

Steve reaches for him, tilting his chin up and kissing him like he might not be there tomorrow. It's slow while still maintaining that hint of urgency, tongues sliding together in a gentle heat of want and need.

When they break apart, Bucky clings to him, a sudden spark of fear that Steve might be leaving on a mission soon. "Don't go." He growls, tightening his grip around Steve's chest.

The speech disorder wasn't as pronounced when Bucky was under stress. Extreme stress and you'd barely know he had a speech disorder. With his years at the Winter Soldier, Bucky had had no need to communicate other than answering simple questions. Remembering how to speak when he wasn't being chased and running on pure adrenaline had proved difficult, especially with memory loss already being an issue. But, Bucky had made progress, and on a good day his speech was almost back to how Steve remembered it.  
On a bad day, Steve fell apart watching Bucky shrink in on himself, growing more and more frustrated that he couldn’t get across what he wanted to say. He’d clench his teeth, and he’d stop trying to use words, no matter how much coaxing everyone in the tower would put in. Bucky would grow silent and stoic throughout the day, communicating in grunts and glares, flexing his jaw against a phantom mask. The end of the day would be just as bad. Bucky would refuse to even look at Steve most of the time they were together, and it broke Steve’s heart to see his Bucky so uncomfortable and angry at himself. 

Which is why Steve was so reluctant to bring up the topic of Stark’s therapy right now. Having a bad day was one thing, having a breakdown was so much worse. 

“I’m not going anywhere Buck. Not without you.” Steve reassures him, wrapping one arm around Bucky’s torso while the other began carding through his hair. The motion almost always calmed Bucky, and Steve sighed as he felt the heavy body against him relax under his touch. 

Even as he relaxes, Bucky knows Steve far too well to be fooled by the reassurance. He frowns against the soft cotton of Steve’s t-shirt, his tongue working over the words he wanted to say, “Some- something wrong?” 

Steve hums a little, concentrating more on keeping his fingers brushing gently against Bucky’s temple on each stroke through his hair. “Tony gave me something today.”  
Bucky says nothing, waiting for Steve to continue. 

“It’s… it’s a type of therapy we’ve not tried yet for you.” Steve says quietly. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow, lifting his head from Steve’s shoulder to gaze down at him properly, watching the unease flick across his face. “Name.”

Steve’s fingers still in Bucky’s hair, sliding down to rest carefully against the side of his face. “It’s called constraint induced therapy but-“

Steve doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Bucky’s wrenched himself up and off the bed in an instant, scrambling to get his footing in his haste to get up. The pacing begins not a moment later, anxiously rolling and flexing his metal arm, his hand practically in spasms with how fast he’s clenching and unclenching his fist. 

“Buck, listen-“ Steve starts, but he’s cut off before he can finish.

“Don’t even. Constraint therapy Steve, are you out of your goddamn mind? I can’t- you can’t – you can’t make me.” Bucky growled, eyes wild as he looks at Steve, his arm beginning to shake. 

Steve rises from the bed, his hands held out in offering as he starts to reach for Bucky. He doesn’t make contact, pausing for Bucky to make the decision to accept. “Okay, Bucky, it’s okay. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, no-one is ever again. I promise you.” 

Bucky doesn’t move towards Steve, but the shaking slows, and he stops his pacing, swaying on his feet towards where Steve is stood. “You want me to do it.” Bucky growls, sucking in a sharp breath as his says it, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. 

“Can you let me explain why first?” Steve asks, gesturing for Bucky to come closer. “C’mere.”

Bucky relents, shuffling forwards and sinking into the hug that Steve pulls him into. Resisting the affection Steve is constantly trying to give him is not a skill Bucky will ever master. He’s still shaking as he wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he tries to pretend there’s nothing damp on his face. 

There’s a hand in Bucky’s hair the moment he’s pressed against Steve’s chest, and he twists to place a soft kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “It’s alright, calm down, deep breaths.”

Bucky grunts, sniffing hard and allowing the feeling of safety he always feels when he’s held so tightly in Steve’s arms brings. Ironic really, considering anything else that restrained him had him exploding at the first touch. 

“It’s not what it sounds like, the therapy.” Steve begins, restarting the soft petting of Bucky’s hair that had been interrupted earlier. 

It works just as well as it always does, and Bucky’s shaking stops. “Could’a fooled me.”

Steve huffs a laugh, kissing Bucky’s cheek again. “Yeah, I know. I went off at Tony when he suggested it too. Was about ready to throw him down the stairs.”

Bucky snorts, and then sniffs again, refusing to move his face from where he was squashed against Steve’s neck. 

“But I read the file he gave me. The therapy is based on another therapy for rehabilitated limbs that we’re not going to be using. That’s where you tie down the good limb as they call it, and then force the patient to use the other limb for intense periods of time.” Steve explains, scratching a little at the nape of Bucky’s neck. He receives a small hum of appreciation before he continues,” Speech constraint therapy doesn’t mean you’ll actually be constrained like that, which I didn’t realise at first. It just takes on that theory, so you won’t be allowed to only give one word answers, or use pictures and gestures; you’d be forced to have to communicate with sentences.”

Bucky is quiet for a few moments. “So no real constraint.” 

“No real constraint and I can be there with you.” Steve says, quickly adding, “If you want.”

Bucky nods, un-sticking himself from Steve’s neck to place a careful kiss to his jaw. “I would want. Can I read it?” 

Nodding, Steve returns the kiss, a loving press of his lips against Bucky’s. “Of course. Tomorrow? I don’t know about you but I want to be back in that bed.” 

In one swift movement, Bucky lifted Steve up off the ground, swinging him up into his arms bridal style and promptly launching him off into the bed with a particularly high surprised screech coming from the super soldier that he remembered well. He’d heard it plenty of times when he’d been much larger than Steve. Grinning, Bucky follows quickly, curling up beside a laughing Steve and melting into his embrace. 

It’d be okay.

It had to be, because Bucky had Steve.


End file.
